


tread lightly on my ground

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, gentle and mild, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Alex is good at adjusting.(Subtext, mostly.)





	tread lightly on my ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/gifts).



> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%. Please keep this work confined to fan spaces and away from the eyes of the people mentioned herein!
> 
> short lil thing i wrote for ali in like an hour :) figured i'd share it if anyone needed one of those post-game oneshots of mild and gentle hurt comfort

Alex has known Dylan for long enough that he’s already prepared for it, by the time Dylan’s avoiding him. 

Alex had been expecting this. He’s been expecting it since second intermission, when Dylan sat in his locker and gave Alex’s jokes half-laughs and no response. One of the things Dylan and Alex do best is riff off each other, so when Dylan won’t, it’s because he doesn’t want to be cheered up, or sometimes, because he can’t be. 

It’s maybe mean to say it, but, well. It’s true. 

Sometimes Dylan is legitimately devastated, and Alex knows that all he can do is run his hands through Dylan’s hair and tell him it will be okay, but sometimes Dylan’s just… mopey. Because he’s a human being, and an emotional one, at that. 

Which is one of the things Alex loves about Dylan—that he lets things matter, that he lets himself care too much—but Dylan likes to think his misery is poetic justice, which is just… categorically false. When Dylan gets sad, he beats himself up over shit, and no one’s really better off for it, least of all Dylan. 

Alex doesn’t see Dylan at all until they get to the bus, and by that point, he’s sitting next to Perls. Back in Erie, that hadn’t been a problem, so Alex makes a mental note to add another thing to the lists of differences between there and here, then and now. 

_ come to my room later?  _ Alex texts Dylan, watching the back of his heat intently from a few rows back. 

_ idk,  _ says the reply that comes a few minutes later, even though Alex knows Dylan had opened it as soon as he read it.  _ not in the mood for a movie.  _

_ we don’t have to watch a movie,  _ Alex says, even though that had been their go-to, once upon a time. 

Whatever. Alex is good at adjusting. 

_ we’ll see,  _ Dylan says, and Alex wants to push him a little more, but it’s been a long time since he’s tested the boundaries of comfort after a shared loss. He should probably let it be. 

In the end, he sends a few heart emojis, then puts on some music and closes his eyes.

Dylan’s outside his door fifteen minutes after they get back, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

“Hey,” Dylan says. “Is it okay if, uh— is the offer still open?” 

“It wasn’t an offer, it was a request,” Alex says, smiling a little as he steps aside to let Dylan in. “What’s up?” 

“I just— didn’t wanna be alone.” Dylan shrugs. “I hope that’s okay.” 

“Duh,” Alex says. 

“Can we, uh, watch TV, or something? Like, Friends, maybe, or just— something we’ve already seen,” Dylan says. 

“Friends sounds good,” Alex says. “Any particular season, or—” 

“Whatever,” Dylan says, and then, after a second, “actually, nothing from before Monica and Chandler get together.” 

Alex bites back a smile, because it wouldn’t match—or help—the mood. “Sure thing.”

They’re not even halfway through the theme song when Dylan says, “Binks?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Losing fucking sucks,” Dylan says, and Alex can see the tension leave him as he says it, can feel it, too, because Dylan’s head is on his chest, and the rest of Dylan is tucked neatly under his arm. Dylan’s feet are stretched out to the end of the bed, and Alex’s toes are at his knees. They probably look even bigger and smaller than usual, but Alex kind of likes it. He’s okay being shorter than his boyfriend as long as they fit together nicely, which they always have. 

Back in Erie, Alex had to focus all his energy on not letting himself feel too much of Dylan pressed up against him, because back in Erie, Dylan-and-Alex was a very different pair of people. 

Alex likes the updated version better. 

Obviously. 

“I know it does,” Alex says, and he leans down and presses a kiss to Dylan’s forehead. Then, Dylan turns his head and kisses Alex for real, right on the mouth. It’s a little belated, but Alex suspects they both were too wrapped up in the strange deja-vu of this and forgot that kissing was a thing they could do, now, has been for the last two years. 

“We’ll get ‘em next time?” Dylan says, like it’s a question. 

Alex scoffs, the first genuine smile he’s managed all night, because he’s not great at losing either. “Of course,” he says. “Especially now that you’re here.” 

Dylan smiles too, at that, but Alex only knows it because he can feel the grin pressing against his mouth. 

**Author's Note:**

> listen i'm very attached to the city of chicago and dylan strome, pray 4 my wip's that are shaping up to be much longer than this. i have moodboards, i have playlists, i am Ready.


End file.
